


Just Fine

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Memories, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:15:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6784804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you know me?”<br/>  <br/>“You’re Steve.” he replies instantly. “I read about you in a museum.” </p>
<p>In response Steve takes the photo from the notebook; looks at it. </p>
<p>  “That all?” he asks, and he’s smiling. </p>
<p>It’s hopeful, Bucky thinks, but he isn’t sure.</p>
<p>***CIVIL WAR SPOILERS***</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Fine

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [还好](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6918808) by [ashleyfeel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleyfeel/pseuds/ashleyfeel)



> I constantly just wanted them to have more time, so that's what I've given them.  
> Bucky's thought process and memories during the scene in his flat.
> 
> ** This has now been translated into Russian by the wonderful Chainsmoking and can be found here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/4371015n **

They kept telling him it wasn’t his fault. They always had. 

_‘Shh, hush now…” Sarah Rogers ran her hand soothingly up and down Bucky’s back, allowing the six year old to sob into her shoulder. “It wasn’t your_ fault _James, he just got a little over excited, that’s all. He’ll be alright.” Bucky’s watery eyes had travelled over to where Steve lay asleep on the couch. The coughing from the asthma attack had stopped but his breath still rattled in his chest._  
_“He’s gonna… he’ll be alright?” he sniffed, wiping his eyes and jutting his chin out. Crying was for babies._  
_“He’ll be just fine.”_

*

Now he was holding a photo, an old one and not one he had taken himself. He’d bought it in the gift shop of the Smithsonian, slipping it quickly into his pocket, unsure of why he did it except that he had to _know._

*

_‘Hey! Hello?’ he shouted, older now; taller broader. A nurse came bustling towards him, shushing and glaring. Bucky didn’t care.  
“Steven Grant Rogers.” he said simply, “Where is he?”_

_“Are you a family member?” the nurse asked benignly._  
_“No I, uh, practically.” he stuttered, cursing his lack of tact._  
_“I’m afraid only family members are permitted to visit-”_

_“His ma’s workin’ , she always is she can’t come and-”_

_“I’m sorry, its doctor’s orders, he needs his rest.”_

_“No, you gotta, I gotta - I gotta_ know- _”_

_The nurse sighs with a hint of a smile.  
“He’s okay. He’s a fighter. He’ll be just fine.”_

*

The edges were worn with the number of times he’d taken it from his notebook, from amongst the frantic scribbles, the flashes of memory. He recoils suddenly as the tear splashes unbidden onto the glossy paper.  
“Stop, stop..” he growls. _Crying is for babies_.

*

_He runs a hand over his face, hoping his eyes aren’t too red, face too blotchy. It had been a year, already, since his dad had… since Becca had…_

_“Buck? That you?”_

_“Yeah, yeah Steve it’s me.” he rounds the corner, entering their poky living room, the bare boards creaking under his feet. The smile Steve directs at him is blinding, lifting some of the weight from a long shift at the docks._  
_“I got a commission,” he grins eagerly, “just shop signs, but they paid me some up front - We won’t haft’a worry about makin’ up the rest of the rent this month.”_  
_Bucky smiles halfheartedly._

_“You don’t haft’a work so long.” Steve adds quietly, as an afterthought. Bucky hears him stand, hears his light footsteps crossing the floor to where he’s sat._

_“I gotcha’ this.” he says. Bucky looks up as Steve slides a slim, flat box into his hands with an encouraging smile._

_“Steve, you didn’t have to-”  
“Well I did, jerk, so open it.” _

_The silver glint is the first thing he sees as he moves aside the newsprint wrapped securely around the harmonica that looks exactly like…_  
_“I know its not the same one. I tried, but I don’t have the connections to find it.”_  
_“I don’t… Steve.” he sobs, throwing his arms around his friend._  
_“I know how much he meant to you, I wanted you to have a piece’a him, especially today.” Steve’s voice is muffled by Bucky’s shirt._

_ When Bucky falls asleep that night, the harmonica rests next to the picture of his dad playing one that looks almost identical.  _

*

Bucky knows that his father died when he was twenty, his mother when he was too small to remember her. Steve’s mom, _Sarah,_ he remembers, had always tried to help them out, taking Bucky in as if he was one of her own. His memories are hazy, but her smile is still clear in his mind. 

*

_Steve’s too small to carry the coffin, so Bucky does it for him, grabbing for his hand as soon as they set it down inside the church. He’d worked himself to the bone to afford even this, a modest funeral, a few of Sarah’s former patients and people who knew her from around town chipping in to help her go with dignity. Later, when its over, Bucky holds Steve to him as he cries, stays with him all night, long after he falls asleep, keeping out the cold and the demons._

*

Bucky thought he’s escaped after he pulled Steve from that river, left him on the shore, not knowing what he meant to him but sure that there was something. He thought he was as free as he could be, with a hijacked mind and bionic arm.

All it takes is a step outside and suddenly it has started all over again. 

When he returns to the hovel he acquired with stolen money, he isn’t alone. 

Steve’s tall where Bucky used to be able to tuck his head under his chin, broad where Bucky used to dwarf him. He turns, and he’s holding the notebook. Bucky’s face remains passive but his mind is frenzied as he reaches for the gun strapped to the underside of the kitchen table.   
  
“Hey. Hey. _Easy_ Buck, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

*

_“Hey. Hey. Easy Stevie. It’s me, I ain’t gonna hurt’cha.” Steve's shivering in the aftermath of another nightmare._  
_“Bucky?” his voice is wavering._  
_“Yeah Steve, m’here.”_

*

He shakes his head, once twice. Meets Steve’s eyes. 

_“Cap, you got incoming. Ten minutes, tops, you gotta move.”_

Bucky can hear the com from across the room, his enhanced hearing allowing him to know that Steve ignores the voice’s pleas dropping the device onto the counter behind him. 

“What do you want?” Bucky grinds out. _Why can’t I get you out of my head? Why do I feel lighter when I remember?_

“You’re not safe, Buck. You got people comin’ after you and they don’t want to take you alive.”   
  
“They won’t.” he replies truthfully, confused by the pity in the man’s eyes.

“Do you know me?”   
  
“You’re Steve.” he replies instantly. “I read about you in a museum.”

In response Steve takes the photo from the notebook, looks at it.   
  
“That all?” he asks, and he’s smiling. It’s hopeful, Bucky thinks, but he isn’t sure.

_*_

_“You’re my best friend.” Steve murmurs, pressed against him in the cot of his designated army tent. It hadn’t taken long for Bucky to find his way to it. For warmth._

_“That all?” Bucky smirks, but it’s not unkind. In lieu of a reply, Steve takes a breath and then presses their lips together, moving them softly together, making Bucky forget his own name. His hands smooth down Bucky's sides and then they're in his hair and it's all just exquisite._

_“Bucky, Buck…” Steve groans against his mouth, “What’re we doing?”_

_“I thought that was pretty obvious, Stevie.” Bucky chuckles, moving his lips to press along Steve’s jaw, nuzzling into the dip behind his ear._

_“I… I want this.” Steve says breathlessly, “I want this with you.”_

_“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”_

*

“Yeah.” he says simply. Steve smile falters, and his expression slips into sadness that Bucky doesn’t like to see on his face.

“Buck… You don’t need to… you don’t need to be alone anymore.” Steve’s hand reaches tentatively for his shoulder. Bucky lets it rest there, looks up at him, unsure. 

There’s a rush of feedback from the com across the room.

“We gotta go.” Steve says quietly, dropping his hand.   
  
Bucky catches it, pulls him closer. He isn’t even close to sure who he is, who he was. But he knows what he wants.  
  
“I want this with you.” he mumbles.

Steve's eyes go wide, staring at him for a moment, incredulous. Bucky knows he’s made the right decision when he gets to see the joy settle in his features. He takes Bucky’s other hand.   
  
“Then I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> Civil War just gave me all the Stucky feels, so I'll probably be posting several random little things like this every so often. Thanks for reading! Feel free to constructively criticise/sob about Civil War with me in the comments!


End file.
